


A Bad Feeling

by Forever_Imagining



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mount Weather, a lot of angst be prepared guys, cute little child involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_Imagining/pseuds/Forever_Imagining
Summary: Your boyfriend, John Murphy, and you have been captured by Mount Weather, but they had a great prison. You wouldn’t be able to go out on the ground again, but there was food, people you could talk to, and great privacy for you and John. But, Mount Weather isn’t the paradise it seems to be.





	A Bad Feeling

You scarfed down the food in front of you. “You eat a lot,” the child next to you observed. Her father just quietly explained, “Honey, they’ve been living outside. There’s not much food there.” He smiled at you. “Sorry.”

You laughed. “It’s no problem.” You told the little girl. “You have a lot of good food here.”

“She’s right.” John sat next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Hey there.”

You beamed and leaned against him. “Hey, John.” His slight scruff scratched you slightly, and you giggled.

The girl beside you cringed.

You laughed. “Sorry, Rory. Have you met, uh, Murphy?”

John raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t that fond of kids. You held his hand and smiled a little. “This is Rory.”

The little girl stared at Murphy coldly, and your boyfriend just stared back. Rory tilted her head and pointed at his chin. “You have stuff on your face.”

“Rory!” her father scolded. “I am so sorry. She really doesn’t-”

John snickered. “You’re ok, kid.” He sat down next to you and piled food onto his plate. “We need to talk later.”

“Those are never good words.” You nudged his shoulder. “You ok?”

John stuffed his mouth with food. “I donf know.” He gulped. He whispered in your ear, “I don’t have a good feeling about this place.”

You looked around. The dining hall was too busy. “After lunch, can we go back to the room? I forgot my sweater. We can get it now if you want.”

John smirked. “Might as well. Don’t want you getting cold.”

“Ok.” You shoved one last bite of food in your mouth before following John to your room. You leaned against your bed and held his hands. “So, you don’t have a good feeling?”

He sighed. “(Y/n), it’s too perfect here. There’s something up with this place.”

You frowned. “John, this is the first place that doesn’t want to kill us. Are you sure it’s a bad feeling?”

“I don’t know. I just,” he smiled and rubbed your cheek with his thumb, “I want us to be safe. I want you safe. You know that. Plus, the people we know here aren’t that, how would you say, open to the idea of,” he sighed and stared at the ground, “a murderer among them.”

“John,” you whispered. When he didn’t respond, you lifted his chin. “Hey, we’re all murderers here. I killed Grounders out there. Jasper killed Grounders, too. Nobody has gotten here without killing someone. So, don’t go around saying you’re the bad guy.”

He shook his head and laughed a little. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“I’m a criminal.”

“That you are.” John let his forehead rest against yours. “I still don’t have a great feeling. There must be something wrong with these people. Poisoned food. Keeping us as hostages. Something.” His voice grew so soft, you knew he was feeling guilty.

You nodded. You pulled away and grabbed a bag from under your bed.

“What are you doing?” your boyfriend asked. “You just said that-”

You turned around and reached into his pocket. You held up a pastry and giggled. You took an apple from your pocket. “Old habits die hard.” You shoved both items into the bag. “We can’t leave now, but we can do something else.” You held out the bag. “This is for when we need to leave. We stash up.” You scanned the room. Spotting a discarded fork on the floor, you picked it up and dropped it in the bag. “Anything that can be food, weapons, survival things.” You smiled. “If you really are feeling like that, then we have this.”

John just stared at you. How could you do that? Compromise between your plans and his. Despite the compromise, it felt like he won every single time. With his horrible gut feeling, he was so worried you’d accuse him of going crazy like everyone else or shoot his ideas down. No, you were taking his feelings into consideration, and that was amazing in his eyes.

When he didn’t respond, you blinked a few times and blushed. “Sorry, I just thought-”

Your boyfriend pressed his lips against yours and pressed you against the wall.

You gasped into the kiss. You definitely did not see that coming. Although to be fair, you should’ve. After recovering from shock, you lost yourself in John’s kiss and dropped the bag on the bed or floor or somewhere. You pulled John by his collar so that the two of you could be closer. You’d been together for so long, but whenever John kissed you, it still made you want more of him.

John smiled against your lips when you pulled him closer to you. One of his hands went from hold your shoulder to caressing your cheek, and even though his eyes were closed, he had no doubt that you were the most beautiful girl he’d met. He placed his other hand on the wall by your head, a silent message that he didn’t want you to leave him.

Even with closed eyes, you felt the wall shake when John slammed his hand against the wall. You pulled away and tried to catch your breath. John had other ideas. As soon as his lips were away from yours, he peppered chaste kisses against your jaw and cheeks.

You let out a gasp. “John,” you laughed. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you closed your eyes once more and reached out for his hand on the wall. You traced his knuckles and pried his hand from the wall.

John looked up at you, confused as to why you’d do that. You tilted your head and held his hand in yours gently. You lifted his hand up to your lips and kissed his knuckles. You giggled. “Sorry, I just really wanted to try that.”

John blinked a few times as his lips curled into a bright smile. To him, the most beautiful person in the world became even more beautiful. Was that possible? He left a lingering kiss on your forehead and shook his head. “Don’t be sorry for being amazing, (Y/n).”

For a few seconds, the two of you stayed like that, just staring into each other’s eyes, thankful that the two of you found each other so early in your lives. From talking across the hall in jail cells to defending each other in class to finally kissing each other on the ground, you and John had been through it all.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but your lips met once more, in a soft and tender kiss, both of you in such a daze.

Just as your boyfriend weaved his fingers in your hair, a voice boomed, “Hey! Aren’t you two supposed to be in the dining hall?”

John rolled his eyes. You stayed still, unsure of what exactly to do. Who was that random person to command where you and John were to be? Ever the criminal, John pulled you in for a bruising kiss where his hands pressed into your back. You got the idea, smiled, and pulled his hair as you kissed back fiercely.

“Hey!” the voice said.

You laughed and pulled away. “Sorry, Miss.” You grabbed John’s hand. “We’ll get going now.” Spotting the bag by your feet, you kicked it under the bed discreetly and pulled your boyfriend along with you.

John just smirked at the guard and followed you.

A few days passed, and John was becoming more and more accustomed to living in Mount Weather. The kids left from the hundred weren’t really keen on talking with either of you, so you two made a new friend. John and you always went back to Rory and her family. Not only was the father an outcast, you weren’t sure why, but his daughter was also not an absolute pain to be with.

As you drank your favorite drink, you watched as John continued to play with Rory.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“It’s make believe, Aurora. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

The little girl stomped her foot. “John, give me the wand or I will stab you with a fork.”

Both of them had a habit of calling each other by their real names when annoyed.

You giggled as John gave the girl the whisk and revealed tongs from behind his back. “I got a more powerful wand!” John announced.

The girl just smirked. “You have to catch me first!”

Rory’s dad sat down next to you and watched his daughter play with your boyfriend. “Thinking about kids, (Y/n).”

Your drink went down the wrong pipe, and you coughed repeatedly. “Uh,” you gulped down the drink as you tried to get rid of the burn of something in your trachea, “no. I mean, not because, uh,” you stuttered. “Rory’s great, Mike, but John and I definitely aren’t ready for kids. We’re not sure if we want any really.”

You caught John’s eye. Your boyfriend was staring at you worriedly. You smiled and shook your head. “She’s getting away,” you told him.

John’s eyes widened. Rory had disappeared. She had way too many hiding places in that small space.

Mike laughed. “Sorry. It’s just you two are good with her.”

You felt air move around your legs. You glanced under the table, and the little girl put her finger to her lips. You nodded and glanced at your boyfriend, who was still trying to figure out if the little girl could fit in the cabinets.

You shrugged. “We haven’t seen her with a tantrum,” you observed, “or with diapers.”

“Right you are.” Rory’s dad cracked his neck and sighed. “We’d love to have you here more often. With work cracking down on me, would you mind? Only if you two wouldn’t mind.”

You smiled. “I’ll have to talk to John, but we’ll definitely consider it.”

You confronted John about it just before bedtime. He sat next to you on your top bunk. “How often is he talking?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

John pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. “I think,” he drawled, “maybe it might be a good idea.” He smiled. “Rory’s an ok kid.”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “You liar.”

“Fine, fine, she’s pretty great.” John sighed.

You bit your lip. “Are you sure? I thought you wouldn’t want to get attached or something.”

“You’re right, but,” he turned his body so he could face you, “I think I could get used to this place.”

You smiled. “Great.”

He kissed you good night and snuggled in next to you.

You woke up in the middle of the night. I sighed and cracked a few of your knuckles. Weird sleeping habits came with a crazy life. You slowly slipped out of John’s grip, kissed his forehead and walked around the room as silently as you could. You stumbled upon John’s bunk bed. You opened his drawer to find your bags safely hidden behind mundane things. Since his bed was in the corner, both of you agreed it would be better to hide the stash there.

You smiled. You wouldn’t need it anymore.

Then, light flooded the room. You jumped and hid in the corner. Thankfully, the shadows concealed you. Why would someone open the room in the middle of the night? No one was allowed outside after bedtime.

You peeked over the bed and saw a few guards enter the room. You narrowed your eyes as they approached the first bed, Harper. They took out a syringe and stabbed her neck. Harper only had so much time to wake up and gasp, “What?” before falling limp. Two guards took her still form and headed towards the door.

You searched the bags and found a kitchen knife. You grasped it and pocketed a few sharp utensils. “Hey!” you screamed. Maybe someone would wake up. You sprinted towards them and stabbed one of the guards holding Harper with the large kitchen knife. You kicked another one down and slashed his arm.

Then, you felt a prick in your shoulder. Damn flimsy nightgowns. Your vision swirled with hues of black, grey, and white. Sleep took over you. “No,” you whispered. You frantically waved around your knife and scooted away from the figure in disgusting army green.

Another needle pricked your neck. “No,” you let out. John’s name was on the tip of your tongue. You just had to scream it. However, just as your mouth opened to say it, the poison won and took you under.

The guards grunted and groaned, and despite injuries, they carried you and Harper through the halls, right past Mike.

Mike was one of the few people who cleaned the halls during the night, a job given to only those who were desperate for a job. When he saw your unconscious form, he grabbed a guard’s arm. “Hey, what are you doing with them?”

“They’re sick. We’re taking them for treatment.”

Mike glanced at you and at the blood that had dripped onto the clean floors. “Maybe I could take a look. My wife was a doctor.” He had to get you away from the guards.

“Sorry, Mike, but we were ordered to take the kids to Dr. Tsing.”

The father opened his mouth to refute again, but the guard beat him to it, “Might be contagious. Who knows what would happen if it got to your daughter.”

The blood drained from Mike’s face.

The guard smirked and left the halls.

Mike took a few deep breaths and tried to form a plan. He couldn’t go after him. There were too many cameras. But, John could. Mike carelessly wiped up the blood trail, avoided cameras as he wrote a note, and went to the hundred’s room. He blinked a few times before turning on his machinery. He bumped into his cleaning cart and let all of his supplies crash onto the floor. As he picked them up, he slipped the note under the door. He continued to clean, drop, crash, until finally a few kids gathered by the windows.

John had woken up from multiple crashed outside the door. He reached out for you, but only found a cold pillow. He shot up. Where were you?

“Murphy!”

He looked down from his bed. “What the-”

Monty handed John a piece of paper, and the look on Monty’s face didn’t make John feel any better. John snatched the note from him and read it as fast as he could. Then, he read again carefully. “No,” he whispered. He jumped off the bed and shoved his way past the kids. He saw Mike outside the door. “Open it!” he screamed. He punched the iron door and cursed immediately after.

Mike opened his mouth. He looked at the floor. He wiped some more blood and pretended to be frustrated he couldn’t get it all. He took his I.D. card and swiped it, but the door rejected his card. He didn’t have enough clearance.

Mike stared at Murphy with a pained expression. The dad couldn’t help him.

John sneered. Why wouldn’t he help you? Just when everything was about to go right, everything went drastically wrong. But John Murphy wasn’t a criminal for no reason. He was going to get to you. “Get off,” he shouted. He pushed people out of his way and ran to the corner of the room. The drawer was open, and one of the bags was on the ground. He searched the bag for anything useful.

“Monty!” John called. He grabbed both bags. If anyone could get through a digitally locked door, it would be him. “Monty!”

“Murphy, if you haven’t noticed, we-”

John shoved the bags into his chest. “Can any of these help?”

The teen blinked and dug through the bag. He grabbed two walkie talkies you and John swiped from a few guards and smiled. “These might help.”

Meanwhile, grinding noises woke you up. Your eyelids were heavy, and the only thing you could process was the name you wanted to say before. “John,” you whispered. You blinked a few times. Your head felt like a lead weight, and you knew you had legs and arms, but you could feel any of them. The grinding, drilling, screaming sounded like static.

Screaming? “What?” You opened your eyes. “Harper!” you screamed. The girl was strapped on the table as a woman drilled into her hip. “Hey,” you gasped. You crawled forward in your cage and grasped the cage. “Stop,” you whispered. You groaned and tried your best to just breathe. Harper’s screams grew sharper, and suddenly, you could hear her screams loud and clear. You covered your ears and screamed. “Stop it!” You patted your legs, trying to find the utensils you’d pocket. However, they had taken your clothes and left you in a clean hospital gown. Except, those doctors weren’t going to help you.

You banged against your cage. What were they doing? Why were they hurting her? They were so nice before. You should’ve listened to John and ran. You should’ve run. Maybe you would’ve escaped.

You shook your head. No. You couldn’t live on that. You had to save Harper.

“Hey!” you shouted again. “What are you doing? You’re hurting her! Stop it!”

A guard, a bandage around his arm rattled your cage. “Shut up!”

You looked around the room. There was a ceiling vent near you. You couldn’t reach it by any means, but maybe there was someone listening on the other end. “Help!” You pulled yourself to the top of your cage. “Help! John, help me! It’s (Y/n)! They’re killing us! They’re killing us!”

Your cage rattled again, but you didn’t care.

You were going to die. You were going to die, and you never had the time you wanted. You wanted John to be there with you.

“Run!” you screamed. “You have to leave! Run away!”

“Shut her up,” the woman instructed the guard.

“I’m trying!”

You continued. You don’t get to survive when you give up easily. You screamed as loud as you could, so much your lungs burned and begged you to stop. But you didn’t. “Help!” you screamed again, tears running down your cheeks.

You weren’t even going to die surrounded by trees. It would be in an ugly, starkly white room with a scratched-up hospital gown and no John. With no one you loved.

“Get away from Mount Weather! Run! Escape! Please!”

The guard pushed your cage to the ground. “Shut up!”

Your arm took the brunt of the fall, and you could hear something crack. You screamed your throat raw, the pain helping you get as loud as you could.

The guard kicked your cage. “I said to can it, space freak!”

“Make me!”

Suddenly, Harper’s screams ceased. The girl’s fingers went limp, and her head fell against the table.

“No!” You rattled your cage. “Hey, stop it! She’s had enough!” You punched your cage. “Hey, she’s done, please.” You screamed again. “Please, you’ll kill her!”

The doctor growled. “Shut up.”

You blinked a few times. The brave words fell out of your mouth before you could comprehend it. “I will, if you take me.” You gulped. You were going to put yourself through hell if you went along with it. You had to. You couldn’t live knowing you allowed Harper to die. She was kinder than the rest, and you couldn’t just watch as they continued to drill into her.

John would kill you if he was in there with you.

You gulped. “I’ll stop asking for help if you take me. Plus, if she’s dead, you can’t get whatever you need from her, right?” Your lungs collapsed and expanded too often, that you weren’t sure if you were even breathing.

John was a survivor.

“It would make more sense if you took me,” you explained. You glanced back at Harper’s limp fingers, and you teared up. If no one was coming, you were going to be like that. Seeing as Harper was unconscious and no one else was captured, you were going to be in a worse position than Harper’s.

John was going to be ok.

The doctor stopped drilling and nodded at the guard. The man smirked and opened your cage. Despite your faux confident persona, you cowered and backed into the corner of the cage. You whimpered and the guard pulled you up by your broken arm. You gasped and screamed as the pain struck you arm and shoulder.

The guard whispered, “Some payback for your little stunt.” He threw you against the table. Next thing you knew, pain shattered your hip, and you screamed your throat raw. “John!”

John’s ears perked up. He narrowed his eyes at the vent.

“Murphy,” called Monty.

John shook his head and and stood next to him. “Anything?”

“I can disarm the door, but I can’t open. We need brute force.”

John nodded. “Do it.” He shoved past the people at the door. “Move back!: he demanded. SOme kids were trying to pry the doors open with a few utensils, but they were bending against the force. John handed out carving forks, kitchen knives, and even a few wooden blocks from Rory’s toy set for keeping the door open.

“Listen up!” John yelled. Silence engulfed the room immediately. Your boyfriend brandished you a kitchen knife. “Everyone with something sharp and thin, to the door, we’re prying this damn thing open. People with blocks or anything heavy and large, get ready to keep the door open.”

Just as he turned around, some kid decided to test John’s patience. “Why should we listen to you?” the kid challenged.

John let out a short huff of air and cracked his neck. As quick as lightning, John had a knife by the kid’s throat. “You really want to ask that when (Y/n) isn’t here?” he whispered darkly. “You always listen to the guy with a knife.” He pushed the kid to the floor. “Anyone else?” he challenged. When no one responded, he nodded. “Good. Monty, ready?”

“Unlocking door in three, two, one!”

John used all his strength to pry open that door. He couldn’t lose you. You were his constant in life, and you being gone was unthinkable, a disgrace of a thought. No, he was going to get to you and kill the bastards who touched you.

It took about an hour, but the door was finally open enough for someone to slip through. John, as expected, had pushed through first, a knife in his hand. He was met with guards, armed with guns. John laughed. “Bad day for you.”

Chaos erupted just like that. As John weaved through the crowd, killing guards with a kitchen knife or his bare hands, more kids poured out of the room and did the same. They aimed to kill because their enemies aimed to kill.

When John broke the first line, he had a kitchen knife in his belt and a gun in his hand. He bolted in the direction Mike’s note told him to and shot security cameras whenever he could. Mike met him late with a cleaning cart. “I’m sorry-”

“Where is she?”

Mike took a map and pointed John in the right direction. “Go get her.”

John nodded and rushed in the direction Mike pointed out. Just when his path ended, he heard your screams. “(Y/n)!” he yelled. Your boyfriend followed your voice, and thankfully, some of the kids had followed him. He would need an army.

Your screams hurt more than anything John had ever experienced. Worse than being hanged, worse than being tortured, worse than being exiled. It was too horrible. He had to save you.

Then, your screams stopped.

“No,” he whispered. “No!” He ran faster, killed guards as swiftly as he could. Finally, he reached a metal door with a keypad. Without looking through the window, he shot the keypad and kicked the door. “(y/n)!” He kicked the door again. “Come on!” He shot the door twice and kicked again.

The door swung off its hinges.

John shot the doctor.

Someone flung themselves into his arms.

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened. He pushed the someone back. Harper. Where were you? You were screaming bloody murder. Where could you be?

Harper’s mouth was moving, but John couldn’t hear any of it when his eyes landed on your body. You were crumpled on the floor, and your limbs were so unnaturally twisted, it looked like one of Rory’s rag dolls that she’d throw on the floor in a tantrum. John’s eyes blurred with tears.

The next thing he could comprehend was holding your cold, limp body in his arms. There were so many words he wanted to scream, but his lungs didn’t allow him to do so. His fingers shook as he pushed your hair back like he had done so many times before. It was too different from those times before. How cold your skin felt. How tightly your skin was wrapped around your bones. How you didn’t blush and giggle and whine out his first name.

“-woke up, she was screaming on the table. The guard told me I was lucky. She,” Harper gasped for air, “She told them to take her instead of me. They-”

“She what?” John asked in a calm voice. He held your body closer and watched as his tears dropped on your bloody hospital gown. “She sacrificed herself,” he turned to look at Harper, “for you?”

The girl gulped and clung to Monty.

All that anger, guilt, pain boiled over. “She’s dead because of you!” he screamed. Murphy reached for his gun. “If you hadn’t been a bitch and taken the pain, maybe she would be alive.”

Monty stepped in front of Harper. “Murphy-”

“Shut up!” He cocked his gun, and no one else dared to say anything “Who says you deserve to live over (Y/n)? Who said you’re worth more!”

“Murphy,” Monty warned.

“She’s my everything, and you took her from me!” John aimed the gun at both of them.

“(Y/n) saved Harper! Are you really going to kill her now?”

Through John’s tears, he could almost imagine it was you two where Monty and Harper were. Him protecting you from someone while you clung to him, trusting him with your life. John imagined you begging the guard or doctor to be put in Harper’s place. He imagined your fear, your pain, your sheer bravery. Your sheer stupidity.

How was he supposed to live without you?

John wanted to pull the trigger, but as far as he knew, your last words were about saving Harper. He couldn’t take that from you. No matter how much he wanted to kill her, the reason you were dead, he couldn’t. He growled and curled up around your body. “I love you,” he whispered, tears dripping onto your forehead. “I love you. I love you.” John whispered it against your skin over and over, as if trying to brand it into your brain.

Deep down, he knew you wouldn’t hear it. But it he let that thought occupy his mind, he knew he would lose everything. No, he needed to believe that you knew he loved you and that you loved him back.


End file.
